The Story is Not Over Yet

Staring at the blank moving wall, now called wallpaper, the memories keep flashing like a movie scene. I’m still in a state of confusion as to what usually follows after finishing the sentence not with a period but with a colon that never belong to a conjunction of a subliminal past and paradoxical present.

i truly cannot understand why a tinge of justification was needed for that fleeting moment of indecision or bad judgment. Nope, it is not to be judged, i know in due time it is only to be understood.

The truth in not knowing the value of the moment until it became a memory. That obsequious feeling of driving a wheel , disregarding the traffic rules inspite of knowing that dangers will be waiting for breaking the stone that rocks the cradle.

The cradle that was all taken care of from infancy to puberty. The adolescence of the mind brainwashing humans that ignorance is a bliss. Until adulthood teaches you that it’s only a bliss until you take the risk.

The paradox of following your bliss believing that you can strive for anything. Anything is possible, even screaming sky is the limit. You can have anything but not everything. An oxymoron parable that sounds better than the aesop’s fable.

The fable that shows human frailties using the art of narrating the pros and cons of an action with its lessons. Realization of the long forgone wishes. Pushing boundaries and eventually stepping over them. The pursuit to fill your bucket list with the unending whispers that the story is not over yet but too late to edit the page.